The Hunger Games - Did It Even Count?
by luannariecken
Summary: (30 Years before Katniss) - Mary Hewitt is a 16 year old girl with 2 twin younger sisters: Sarah & Lila, and 1 younger brother: Jake. She lives with them & her dad. Her mother was killed by the peacekeepers for stealing an apple at the market when Mary was 14. She, as everyone else in District 12, lives day to day, earning money however she can. And... The 45th HG is coming up..


**Chapter One**

I woke up out of a sudden. It was still dark out. The moon was shining bright. I took a long look. It looked so alive, so vivid. It seemed as I was dreaming, I couldn't feel my body for a few seconds. There was only it's light and me. I stared at the moon for a while before I came back to the real world, with the blink of my eyes, shaking my head slightly. I got up slowly, and walked a lazy walk towards the bathroom. I wasn't sure why I went in there, but as soon as I entered, I saw my reflection on the mirror. My light brown hair was looking natural, messy. My brown eyes seemed bigger, more beautiful, accompanied by my few freckles, which as well looked different, like there were more of them filling my cheeks. My whole face looked different. I backed away one step or two, looked at my body. I was wearing a t-shirt and some short shorts as pajamas. I turned around still trying to analyze myself. I looked skinnier. I probably was, considering how hungry we'd been the past week. But that would probably change today. I don't care what dad would say, I just wanted to be done with it, and today I was going to get thirty slips for the tesserae. It didn't matter anymore. At first I thought of getting the slips and coming back home with the 30 bags and just telling him I was done being hungry. Telling him that I was done seeing them hungry. But then I thought for another minute. He'd freak out. Big time. It would be better if I just hid them and brought them in one by one, tell him I won them fighting (he would hate it, but that would be better than telling him the truth, anyways).

I walked out of the bathroom, sat heavily on the bed again. I had a calendar hanging on the back of my door, facing me. One day was circled in pink. I hate pink. It was a week from now. Today was the 22nd April. And this year, 29th April was the date of the reaping. The day everybody has been waiting for, even if not in an excited way. Except of course for Districts one, two and four, who had been training for this since… Well… They were born.

After getting a – non-pink – pen and risking out today's date, I headed downstairs to get a cup of water. As I went down, I heard footsteps coming from the kitchen. I slowed down, tilting my head down, trying to see who it was. Jake was standing in front of the fridge, holding the door with his right hand. I made some noise so he wouldn't scare with my presence. He turned his head, looking at me.

"Hey Jamboy." I called him the nickname I gave him after the day we got home from the fight club and he was covered in jam sitting on the kitchen floor, smiling, while sucking on his fingers dirty with jam. "Why are you up right now?"

He looked at me before he mumbled something. His eyes were half closed, so I got closer. Waving my hands in front of him.

"Are you awake, honey?"

He didn't answer. I picked him up and he slept in my arms the same second. He was sleep walking again. I carried him up stairs, opened the door with my foot (it required more ability than I thought) and silently walked up to his bed. I walked as slow as I could not to wake up the girls, with the reaping coming, they woke up from nightmares all the time, and so their sleep time was rare and precious. I bent and put Jake on his bed, glad that he slept on the bottom bed of the bunk bed. He made himself a little more comfortable, still asleep. I crouched, looking at him. He looked so peaceful sleeping; it was a beauty to see. When awake, he rarely smiled, almost never laughed. His childhood was taken away before it had barely started. Mom's death happened when he was four. Two years ago. It seemed like a decade ago, actually… You'd think that at that age, he wouldn't remember much, but he just wasn't like that. Even the girls had better grieving ways, having been seven when she passed away. They still have moments, of course. They still miss her, they still feel it. But they get distracted. Somehow they just know they can't think about it all the time. But Jake, he seems like a part of him died with her. He was a normal, happy kid. Even in the conditions of District 12, he was happy. He didn't need much, just his toy truck and his family. No need for all that fancy Capitol things.

The day it happened, he didn't understand what was going on. Dad got him from school early, and brought him home. Me, Sarah and Lila were home waiting for them. He sit us all down on the dinner table. Took a deep breath, and then just stared at me for a while. He didn't cry and he didn't break down. He just stared. He looked deep into my eyes for what seemed like a year, but really went by as one minute tops. And suddenly, I just knew. Tears streamed down my face like a waterfall. I didn't know how, but I knew. "How?" I remember asking between loud crying. "What happened?" I tried to mumble, but I could barely breath. He came over, face serious, skin cold. Hugged me tight and whispered into my ear "Peacekeepers". I passed out. Woke up an hour later, on my bed. He told the girls and Jake while I was out. Sarah and Lila cried in their room for hours. They hugged each other on Sarah's bed and stayed there. Jake, though, didn't understand the first time. "But what did they do to her? She didn't do anything wrong, did she daddy?" I could hear his voice from downstairs as I woke up. "No, son, it was their mistake. How, when, why, it all doesn't matter now. We just have to stay together now that mommy's gone okay?" Dad's voice was thick and strong.

From that day on, I had never seen Jake smile again. Not once. And I spent most of my days with him. I took him to school everyday, and picked him up after. Before dad discovered, he even came to Twelve Fights with me, the illegal fight club I went to get more money for food and medicine for my family. He didn't really watch, the old guy and his wife, owners of the house T.F. happened in, Mr. e Mrs. Takahashi were sweet people and took care of him while I fought. He usually just played with his truck until I got out. Dad didn't get home until late, he worked in the mines, so I didn't have to explain myself to him. After the T.F. we picked the girls up from school and headed home. I helped him bathe, do homework, change, everything I could. Sarah and Lila did everything themselves already.

Sometimes, during his playtime, I would se a smile want to build up on his face. I would sit on the table and do my homework, but watch him play also. He'd move the truck frontwards and backwards a thousand times, never getting tired of it, and once in a while, for just a second, it was as if he was going to smile, and from there laugh, and louder and louder until he'd be rolling on the floor with his hands on his tummy, laughing uncontrollably. But just before his lips would actually move to perform a smile, he'd stop the truck. Look at me, and then continue. It was heart breaking to watch. Worse part being, I think he knows this smile is building up, and that's why he stops for those few seconds. He doesn't let himself do it. He doesn't allow that smile, that laugh to become. The resemblance to dad is unbelievable. The way he moves his hands, the way he looks at me. It's like they're the same person sometimes.

I got out of my own head, realizing I'd been crouched there looking at him for good five minutes. I lifted myself up, my legs hurt with the movement. I looked over at the girls on the top bed: they were holding hands. I kissed them on their foreheads whispering "My little twin babies", as always. They slept on the same bed, the top of the bunk bed. Dad got home late from work one day, and the girls feel asleep in mom's arms, on the couch. Mom ended up sleeping too, children's book in hand (The Little Mermaid, like usual. The only book the girls ever wanted her to read. Plus, it was the only one we had too). He got them both, one in each arm, and put them in the same bed because Jake had slept in Sarah's bottom bed while sleepwalking, and since then they never had it other way. We even got rid of Jake's bed, sold it, after realizing it was no use to try and convince them to the old sleeping arrangement. And Jake had no trouble changing beds, of course, always cooperative.

I practically slid out of the room with such silence not to wake a bat, and closed the door gently. I got back into my room and put myself to sleep. Most people have trouble sleeping at sixteen whilst having so many problems. But not me. I could lie down on a rock bed that I would be asleep in five minutes. The problem was, I was afraid to sleep and have nightmares. As childish as it might sound, it was my biggest fear. Not of my mom dying again, or of my dad, or my family for that matter. Not even about the games. I had selfish, egocentric nightmares. About me not having food, or me not having water, or me not having a dress to "prom". Stupid nightmares, in which I got terrified. I woke up sweating, only to realize the idiotic nature of it all. And then proceeded to curse myself. I mean, who does that? Who, in my condition, would have such selfish, stupid, insanely silly nightmares like these? I would rather have to hear how my mom died a thousand times than having these dreams. I would rather have to work in the mines, or be buried alive. It would be less shaming. I can never tell anyone about these dreams, ever. When my dad walks in on me waking up from such dreams (or having them), I tell him they're about mom. It's better than the truth, I guess…

I eventually forget about it and fall into a deep sleep. Only to dream about losing my Capitol's Fashion black shoes.


End file.
